


Lessons

by DragonWannabe



Series: A Journey, in many parts [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Ozai (Avatar) Being a Terrible Parent, Ozai (Avatar) is an Asshole, Self Esteem Issues, Unreliable Narrator, Zuko spends his entire firebending lesson freaking out, meanwhile iroh was just pleasantly surprised zuko was willing to meditate for 6 hours, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:07:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24953506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonWannabe/pseuds/DragonWannabe
Summary: Zuko’s first firebending lesson post Agni Kai reveals how Zuko has been forced to learn back at the palace
Relationships: Iroh & Zuko (Avatar)
Series: A Journey, in many parts [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1806850
Comments: 48
Kudos: 881
Collections: I think of you as my own





	Lessons

**Author's Note:**

> If you’re reading this on a paid site you’re a fool. I don’t own any characters, etc 
> 
> This was written as one part of what was to be a longer work, but it was functional as a standalone and will probably be turned into a series of AtLA fics featuring this version of Zuko turning into the angry boy we all love

Zuko did not know how he managed to make it so far in life while being so stupid. If his father hadn’t managed to burn it out of him, there was no way to get rid of it. He didn’t know how he could have just forgotten that Uncle Iroh was not the same as Sifu Iroh and certainly was not the same as Guardian Iroh. It was not spelled out in so many words, but until Zuko became of age, so long as he was banished, his Uncle was in responsible for him. The kind of behavior that would be tolerable from a nephew was not the type that would be tolerated from an unwanted ward. 

Zuko couldn’t remember exactly what his Uncle had been like with Lu Ten, but certainly Zuko would not receive the same leniency. Lu Ten was not perfect, but he had honor and skill in all aspects that mattered. Lu Ten was Iroh’s cherished son, not his disappointing nephew. Zuko remembered his cousin with great fondness. Lu Ten always brought gifts for his baby cousin, and while Zuko had resented the title then, now he could only reminisce about how cared for he felt. 

Regardless, Zuko knew that even if Uncle Iroh had been gentle with Lu Ten, he would not be afforded the same luxury. It was unreasonable to expect someone to spoil a child that could not obey simple instructions. For what other reason would his father have burned him? Clearly Zuko was not learning fast enough or wasn’t learning the right things if so severe a punishment was warranted. It wasn’t like his father hadn’t punished him prior to the Agni Kai, but Zuko hadn’t listened and hadn’t learned. The Agni Kai was for the disrespect he had shown in the war room, but deep down Zuko knew that it was the culmination of many things. His inadequacy in bending. His weakness at stifling his emotions. His refusal to be a better heir. 

Zuko hadn’t even realized his mistake until he had seen the look on his Uncle’s face, and then he recalled his explicit instructions. It wasn’t even anything particularly difficult. His uncle had simply told him to meditate with a candle. The bare basics of firebending and he couldn’t even accomplish that. It wasn’t as thought Zuko hadn’t been trying. The bandages on his face were irritating and his lack of vision in one eye made the other tire faster. The candle in front of him originally caused him to stiffen before Zuko couldn’t consciously relax his muscles. Each time the flame grew with an exhale, his breath stuttered and the flame almost sputtered out. 

Zuko attempted to meditate and breath with the candle for hours; the sun had reached its zenith and started receding again. It’s rays were fading from the window. He was grateful his Uncle had insisted on doing this exercise in Zuko’s quarters. From his brief excursions he knew the crew already thought very little of him; they did not need to know how poor of a firebender he was in addition to how little honor he had. Now he was even more grateful that however his Uncle wanted to reprimand him for failing this most basic task, it would be done in private. His old instructors liked to burn his feet and ankles. Each time Zuko moved he would be reminded of his failure, and having that reminder would encourage him to do better. His nonbending instructors tended to rap his knuckles with a rod or have him skip meals when he was being particularly obtuse. Had they tried doing so when they were not actively teaching, Zuko would have been furious. As it was, there was order through pain.

Zuko’s inability to breath properly insulted Iroh both as his instructor and as his guardian by not being following basic instructions and by lying about being ready to bend again. He knew that whatever punishment he received would be a walk in the park after his face, but he didn’t look forward to feeling the shame and disappointment sure to be layered in with it. 

The silence after seeing Iroh’s face worsened his breathing. Zuko spent several minutes trying to banish the potential punishments from his mind and drew in exaggerated breaths. The candle flame moved with him, but it wasn’t as steady as it should be. 

A sigh emerged from his Uncle and the flame refused to stay steady and Zuko cursed himself. How could he be so weak when he had earned his reprimand? How could he constantly prove that he deserved it? Had he no preservation instincts? His uncle stood up and it was all Zuko could do to not snuff out the flame in one quick gasp. He barely kept it lit and the little pride he managed was quickly extinguished. Azula would have been able to keep the flames lit. Azula wouldn’t have to be painstakingly forced each step of the way. She didn’t earn the constant reminders of failing because she didn’t fail. He tried to focus on the candle instead of the other man in the room.

When his Uncle lit a fire in the palm of his hand, Zuko knew there was no hope of the candle staying lit. He didn’t know why he wasn’t expecting this. As a teacher, Iroh would have to use any methods necessary to make Zuko learn. He closed his eyes. It was better to not see it coming from someone Zuko cared about; he learned that the hard way from his father. 

He forced himself to stay still. He refused to be a coward again in front of his Uncle. He wouldn’t beg this time, not like he had two months previous. His fists clenched in his lap. He forced himself to inhale deeply and pretended the hitches in his breath weren’t there. 

The sound of pouring liquid caused the sick feeling in Zuko’s stomach to turn to pain. For all the times Zuko had been a disappointment, water had never been part of the consequence. It was fitting that General Iroh could devise a new method for Zuko to begin learning. He tried to reason with himself that his Uncle was only trying to help. Zuko’s insistence that he was ready was the cause of all of this. Zuko should have known he needed more time to develop a course of action before dragging his Uncle to the front row of his disordered bending. 

“Prince Zuko, open your eyes.” Uncle Iroh gently ordered. Zuko’s stomach dropped; he was going to be forced to watch? Numb with terror, he opened his eyes to see his Uncle holding out a tea cup. 

Uncle Iroh smiled and shook the cup. Zuko cautiously reached for it, holding it carefully in one hand. He quickly brought it to his lap and cradled it in both hands; much longer outstretched and the liquid inside of it would have sloshed all over the floor from Zuko’s trembling. 

“Nephew, please, drink some tea. You have been breathing well for more than half the day.” Zuko obediently took a sip of the tea in his cup. He tried not to grimace at the earthy taste. Breathing well? He had thought his Uncle was too old to mock him. 

“Uncle, I don’t think that could be considered ‘well’ by any stretch.” Zuko stopped talking. What right did he have to try and correct his Uncle? Iroh was a firebending master, feared and revered by all 3 nations for his prowess. 

“You have not had breathing practice in well over 2 months! After such a long pause, the fact that you kept at it for over half the day is something admirable indeed.” His Uncle grinned. “Now, please have a cup of tea and then we can stretch our sore muscles and see the progress we’ve made today on our course.” 

Lieutenant Jee had been instructed to head towards the Eastern Air Temple, a month long journey by sea, plus an additional two weeks on foot. 

Zuko drank his tea, disguising his gagging at the taste as a mere grimace. It had been a clear order, despite his Uncle’s jovial tone. He wouldn’t give his Uncle a reason to punish him if he could help it. 

Iroh hummed, closing his eyes and savoring his drink. “Prince Zuko, I understand that you are frustrated with restarting your firebending training from the beginning, but all good houses must have good foundations.”

If his Uncle asked Zuko to perform a beginner kata, Zuko was certain he wouldn’t be able to oblige without failing. Maybe all he was good for as a firebender was breathing on a candle flame. Uncle finished his drink, and Zuko quickly drank the rest of his. Iroh stood and collected the tea cups and placed them on the tray with the teapot. Iroh walked towards the door to Zuko’s quarters holding the tray to take back to his room. 

A touch on Zuko’s left shoulder disrupted the calm he had managed to achieve from hours of mediation and relaxing with his Uncle disappeared. Without even hesitating, Zuko jerked from the touch, sprawling on the ground in his haste, whipping his head so his unbandaged eye could look at his Uncle. He had thought that Uncle was, if not pleased, not dissatisfied, with his work today. 

The crash of a tea cup resounded throughout the room. 

Zuko stopped breathing. How could he have been so careless? The only one in the room was Uncle; of course he had been the one to touch his shoulder. Even if he couldn’t see him, he should have known. Any leniency he would have received for his breathing was out the window after destroying his property. Immediately he scrambled and knelt on the ground, grabbing shards of pottery. 

“Uncle, Uncle, I am so sorry.” Zuko forced out. Father liked to hear him grovel, sometimes. That was the main thought in Zuko’s mind during the Angi Kai; that if he prostrated himself enough, his father would not be so cruel. Like always, Zuko had misjudged. “Uncle, please forgive me. I meant no disrespect by pulling away from you.” Zuko knew that was the coward’s way. To avoid facing what they deserved. He picked up all the shards of pottery that could be held between his fingers. The shaking of his hands created a rattling noise. 

It wouldn’t hurt now to grovel. At worst it might make the aftermath moderately more uncomfortable, but it might also save him. Zuko was grateful that tears no longer sprang up in these instances. They would have indicated that he was weak for many minutes after. 

Iroh was silent and Zuko risked a glance up at him. His Uncle looked angry, and he raised the hand not holding the tray and everything in Zuko wanted to pull away and put distance between them. This was General Iroh, the Dragon of the West. There was no distance to put between them that would matter, especially not on a boat such as this. Zuko stiffened and stayed still and averted his eyes. He wanted the Uncle that bounced him on his knee when he was seven back. He wanted the Uncle that brought him small trinkets from his travels. His Father had never been overly kind to him because he knew that Zuko was a disappointment, but Uncle Iroh cherished him prior to becoming his Guardian. Zuko still couldn’t believe that two months ago he had ruined every relationship he had and sullied one of the only things left that consistently brought him joy. That his Uncle would have to punish him would hurt when he remembered all the niceties he took for granted. 

The tray and it’s contents rattled as they are placed on the ground. “Nephew, look at me.” Angi above, Zuko hated that order. It was harder to stay still when he could see it coming. The anger had melted from Iroh’s face, but was thinly veiled in his voice. Zuko stared resolutely at his Uncle’s nose. 

“Prince Zuko, I am going to touch your hands and collect the pieces of the cup that you’ve gathered.” Iroh was very slow when reaching out, and he cupped his hands under Zuko’s clenched fists. A little pressure on the tips of Zuko’s fingers had his hands unfolding and the pieces clattered into the waiting palm. Perhaps his Uncle thought Zuko might fight back, but he knew better than that. He could feel his heart rate beating faster than a rabbit-deer. 

With the pottery pieces on the tray, Iroh knelt next to Zuko. “My dear boy, what do you think is going to happen to you?” Iroh asked softly.

Zuko swallowed. He hadn’t realized how dry his mouth had gotten. He’d never been asked to explain his treatment out loud before. “I know my meditation was not optimal today, and it is your right as my instructor and guardian to rectify any behavior that you see.” Zuko breathed before continuing, “I also know it’s the cowards way out to try and avoid that which one is due. I am so sorry, Uncle. I did not mean to ruin your cup.” The list of grievances he committed in the last hour alone were numerous. Once his instructor had him list each mistake he had made during the morning, and then he used that number to determine how thwacks with a rod he earned. He hoped this would not be a repeat. 

“Zuko...” Iroh breathed. “Nephew, I believe it is I who owes you an apology. I have clearly been remiss as your uncle to have missed the treatment that would have caused this behavior. Further, I should have recognized how uncomfortable you have been since we stopped meditating.” 

His words entered Zuko’s ears, but he found it hard to comprehend them. That Uncle would owe Zuko an apology seemed laughable. He shook his head, unable to put his denial into words.

“Prince Zuko, no one has the right to harm a child the way you have been harmed. Did your father know about this treatment?” 

“Father gave explicit instructions to Sifu Sidzo about what was and was not allowed during my bending lessons. And my non bending instructors were the same way.” Once his Uncle realized it was allowed by his Father, he’d realize that he had gotten upset over nothing. 

“Did Ozai ever—“ Iroh cut himself off. Zuko’s face was still bandaged and would probably remain bandaged for another month yet. Such an incident could not have been the first time he laid hands on his son. 

“Zuko, please listen to me.” Zuko nodded to indicate he had heard. He was still staring at his Uncle’s nose. “Please know that the treatment from which you have suffered so greatly is not normal, nor is it expected. I do not wish for you to be afraid of me.” 

“Uncle,” his voice is small, but he cannot let his Uncle make promises that he won’t be able to keep, not when he realized how disappointing Zuko was. “Uncle, I know that I am not the ideal son. I know being born in the winter is shameful, and my bending is weak. I am aware that I am not a skilled learner of anything. I know that this makes it difficult to teach me.” Zuko does not want to give his Uncle his blessing to harm him, but he has endured worse. “I understand if you have to take matters into your own hands.”

“Prince Zuko, you may not believe me now, but I will prove it to you. You need not fear that I will harm you for not understanding. It is despicable and dishonorable for your father to have allowed such actions and committed them himself.” Iroh spoke with such vehemence it stunned Zuko. Iroh reached out a hand towards Zuko, and Zuko anticipated it. “Nephew, may I hug you? I understand should you wish to b—“ Zuko launched himself at his Uncle. He thought these moments would be lost when he entered Uncle’s care as a ward instead of as a nephew.

Zuko knew that he must be imagining the tears that were on his head. Zuko learned long ago that there was no point shedding tears over it.

**Author's Note:**

> I hate endings. I never know what to do with them.


End file.
